


uncanny valley

by waybackup



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Art museum, Existential Angst, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Pre-Infinity War, they're married here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 15:56:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waybackup/pseuds/waybackup
Summary: The Vision and the Scarlet Witch visit a museum during their exile. Adapted from RP.





	uncanny valley

**Author's Note:**

> had this lying around from a year or so ago. really enjoyed exploring these characters so decided to post it! done anonymously over omegle.

Edinburgh didn't feel like home. Not to Vis, at least. The city acted as a refuge in desperate times where his love felt policed and the promises he had made didn't feel valid anymore. It had only been two years since he had the privilege of being brought into this world and suddenly he didn't have the capacity to feel grateful anymore. He felt forced to hide while the core team were still largely celebrated - Ben and Jerry's Stark Ravin' Hazel Nuts being stocked in a corner store near to where they were staying. The irony of their situation was known and accepted. Adopting human-like features and a name to be called - Victor Shade was not who Vision was and he was painfully aware of the fact.  
  
He and Wanda often made trips to art museums in their spare time. Vision took a great interest in the self-expression and subsequent display of it in paintings and other works of art. The pair habitually found themselves visiting on weekdays at early hours, right when it opened. The grand space was theirs then - little to no others occupying it aside from older scholars who took more of an interest in the cafe than the artwork. It felt like their place. On this particular Tuesday morning they paced around a newer exhibit showcasing landscape artists and still-life drawings. 

"An uncanny valley," Vis spoke with an authority, though ultimately he was using the term wrong. Though, his ill-executed hill pun felt appropriate. "It's photo-like in it's execution. So lifelike it becomes - off, something disingenuous arises from it. A discomfort." Wanda could've been on the other side of the room at this point but he continued anyway. He often did this. "I feel as if maybe people look at me with the same degree of unnerve." His hands were clasped behind his back as he bowed his head. "I don't quite care for landscapes."

This was the life they had chosen, something that was undercover and on the down low. In ways it was for the better, to become something they weren't, and move on with their lives. Going to these exhibits, it was almost a way to show how the both of them were human in different ways, seeing different sides and illustrations in the paintings, the deemed works of art. Wanda often enjoyed them for the most part, seeing that there was something more there. That there was creation, but at the same time there was too much control. The woman was often more intrigued by art that looked all over the place, as if they did whatever they wanted. Landscapes, was often what she saw as something too much in control. Moving closer to Vision, she heard him, with no disruption on her end. And hearing him, her hand gently came to rub his arm, and she leaned against him. 

"It's like you didn't ask for it, and they still hold it against you.." The witch leaned against him as she sighed softly. "But sometimes in that discomfort, we find those who understand and make it bearable."

"Bearable." He echoed her sentiment as if he was trying to look up the meaning of the word in such a context. 

**T** he still landscape and its grassy knolls resonated with him - stationary as it was it represented his clamouring for freedom. It was so close but it wasn't the real thing. The rough textured canvas begged to be touched but the ramifications were far too great to risk. The piece was metaphorical in a way that Vision didn't want to face. Wanda offered him much needed comfort in a time where his humanity showed through and he appreciated it in ways she could never come to understand. 

"My dear," Vis wrapped a synthetic-skinned hand around hers. "I've come to realise that melancholy is a divinely human trait." A man, who wasn't really a man at all, looked at the object of his affections - everything he did was for her, especially now after his loyalties had been tested over the Slovokia Accords. "I think art encapsulates it far too well. We come here to see places we may never visit and deem ourselves satisfied." At 10am on a Tuesday these were feelings he often reserved for the witching hours. 

"We can visit when the time is right, because until someone knows the real deal, how are they supposed to understand the riches and depth of something or someone." But she meant this for Vision, knowing the other had some difficulty when it came to when people and having them know him. Vision was a good man, even if no one else could see it yet. But most of it was in his head, though she would not belittle those thoughts, since she had demons of her own. Hands held hers and she felt her breath hold for a moment. As much as he wasn't what most people defined as human or real, this she felt was real. What they were was real. What they had, was also real. Something that the other often would leave for later hours of the night. 

"Are you satisfied, Wanda?" His eyes searched hers but Wanda needed to keep him grounded in this moment. 

"I think I am." Leaning up, she pecked his cheek before walking away, gently tugging his hand, but then smiling as she gently let it fall from her fingers.

Vision was burdened by knowledge. A framework for his thoughts, knowing too much but not knowing himself was a disparity he didn't know how to deal with. Wanda possessed the experience he did not. What she had been through made her far stronger and that was admirable to him. Her sentiment was comforting - as was her sensibility - but irrationality seemed to seep into his core like the roots of a great plague. Art criticism has become a mirror for human beings to analyse their own interpretations of the world around them; and now there was an understanding of that concept that Vision had not felt previously. She was right, the complexities of his life weren't technical. Only she /really/ knew him. Not even his creators could come close to comprehend what he felt or why. Wanda's lips were as gentle as her approach. A smile crept onto his lips as their contact ended. 

"You're very, very good at this." He swivelled around to face her once again. "Now tell me, what significance does a bowl of fruit have on human existence?" The question was in jest as an attempt to lighten the mood but he could listen to her talk about anything, no matter how pretentious.

When the other spoke and joked, she couldn't help but roll her eyes playfully, though she did watch as he followed her. It was to say the least, more than interesting to see that the woman was showing him more of the world, even if it was early 10am on a Tuesday morning. 

"We don't talk about the fruit, because it doesn't have the biggest significance but it is a form or reality to someone else. It is what someone sees, and the colors they are, the brightness that radiates from them as light bounces off, the balance in the picture, the stability of the bowl there are-- many components that hold a stance there but not a lot of people see it as such." She sighed as she stuffed her hands in her pocket, pouting as eyes found his again. "People just usually fail to look into a deeper meaning. All they see is a bowl of fruit. Nothing less, nothing more. They only see the outside but you have to see every side and angle to a story before you think it's useless." 

Vision always was complicated, his mind was beautifully designed and the functions were advanced. He knew more than she could ever imagine and he would always be an enigma to her. But she adored the complexity, she was fascinated by the man he has grown to be. "Sometimes we're the bowl of fruit. I know I relate it back to people but I guess, that just may be my way with coping."

The hall was an echo chamber lined with canvases encased in gold frames accompanied by short biographies placed on white tiles. Every word his lover spoke reverberated akin to that of a University lecturer, with himself being a willing student. 

"The fruit could also be a focal point, though." This faux-class discussion only reminded him of why he put up with the dull nature of this new country - his once political adversary now an intellectual one whom he admired greatly. A woman much stronger than him but also just as vulnerable. 

"You see, fruit is nourishment. Something that is entirely necessary to human survival. That necessity, however mundane, being honored holds much significance." Pacing around the room his eyes never left her form. 

"Of course - Biblically, the apple of Eden caused the downfall of all man. To place something so significant in other works in a bowl of others not regarded in the same sense could represent a shift in art history, a revision of ideals." Vis' footsteps seemed to punctuate his points. 

"The emotional aspect is not what came to me first." He stops. Mulling over what he said for a second, feeling as if his capacity for emotional intelligence wasn't initially as strong as he believed. "It's fitting, though."

Listening to him was as if she had walked into those movies of time, where she is brought through a documentary and she listens to a voice that brings out every fact and detail imaginable. How she listens to him and can't help but pinpoint every focal point and argument he makes. It was something that was more captivating than most places they go. Most people won't even decide to banter, or give their opinion to such lengths. But her love only continues to challenge with his understanding, with everything that he has to offer

"I can also see that." Her voice was soft as she then turned to face him as they walked. 

"But in saying this, and continuing with more of the literal fruit, the apple is the fatal flaw, and represents that it is something all living posses. But does that make us any less beautiful? We ourselves may not see the beauty but others do. Without that flaw we are not what we are, we are empty, and that of a shell that can be filled to do whatever they want." Then she adjusted her beanie, and turned to him, smiling a bit. "Though you're probably right. Must be just a focal point."

Sometimes he reflected on how it kind it was of her to entertain his ramblings. Other times he understood that both stood adjacent on the same mental playing field, even despite his enhancements. Never lesser than, always equal to. That is why their relationship blossomed as it did even after all they had went through. Vision met her at a time of great loss at the hands of great creation. The crossing of their paths was bound, and though he did not believe in fate, as he listened to her he believed that this would always be the outcome. 

"I don't think there's a right answer." Understanding her points only expanded his view on the matter. Though simple the piece was too complex to pin anything down as absolute truth. 

"Authorial intent doesn't matter, in any sense. Once something is conceived it cannot be controlled in the perception of others. Everything that exists is to be discussed - art is the only medium where it's encouraged." Taking a seat in-between exhibits he beckoned her to join him. "I think that's why I have such a strong fascination with it. Like people, we can never truly understand."

Wanda joined him on the bench, her wild red hair draping over his broad shoulder as she stared at the artistry surrounding them and took in the best parts of her husband. He felt as lost as she did despite an infinite pool of knowledge to affirm his own existence, but together they were stronger than their doubts. 


End file.
